Back to the Beginning
by Parnassus
Summary: Post episode 1.13, Metaphysics Necrosis. Okabe can't save Mayuri, no matter how hard he tries. A glimpse into his guilt-ridden mind following another death.


**TITLE:** **Back to the Beginning**

 **SUMMARY:** **Takes place sometime after episode 13, Metaphysics Necrosis. Okabe can't save Mayuri, no matter how hard he tries. Her death and his guilt are still horribly fresh.**

 **WARNINGS: Some swearing, violent stuff, ya know. **

**A/N:** **So I'm obviously on a J. Michael Tatum binge. Loved Steins;Gate. Loved his character and most of the others. Hopefully you enjoy this little offering. Short and bittersweet.**

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Screaming tires, a flash of headlights and that was it.

She's lying sprawled out on grimy asphalt, twisted and broken like a garage-sale doll. Beautiful gray orbs, the same as rolling storm clouds, only moments before so full are dull and empty and staring at nothing at all.

Blood, Mayuri's blood…there's just so much of it, pooling in pretty crimson puddles at his feet. This is too real. Too fucking real. He can't deal with this, not again. The despair and failure are tearing him apart piece by goddamn piece.

Her small hand is so pale, cold as an icicle when he picks it up to wrap in his own. He collapses, folding his body around hers, shaking so hard he can scarcely draw a breath.

Mayuri's head still fits perfectly in the crook of his shoulder, a missing puzzle piece. Her lips are stained with rivulets of blood that won't stop dripping down her chin. He wipes it off with his sleeve. The rest seeps into his shirt.

He cries her name, begs her not to leave. The logical part of his scrambled brain knows she can't hear him, couldn't answer if she wanted to.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into her rain-soaked hair. "I'm so sorry."

He leans forward, presses a kiss to her forehead and tastes blood. There's an ugly gash running about three quarter inches down her hairline, it's leaking. He wipes his thumb over the blood but only ends up smearing more of it on her face. She's barely recognizable.

He's choking, broken sobs shredding his throat raw, threatening to suffocate him. Darkness pulsates along the edges of his vision. If he had his way he'd let it blot him out of existence.

Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.

He doesn't remember making the call. Doesn't remember letting go of Mayuri. One moment he's cradling her body and the next he's slumped on the couch back at the lab. Back to the fucking beginning.

"Okabe?"

It's Kurisu's voice. Concerned and annoyed all at once. Patented. She must've been trying to get his attention for a while.

He hasn't stopped trembling, fingers gripping the couch cushions so hard his knuckles have gone white. Tears track stubbornly down his cheeks. He can still taste the ghost of Mayuri's blood on the back of his tongue.

"Okabe, what the hell's wrong with you?"

A gentle hand that negates the harshness of her tone lands on the back of his neck. Her palm is warm but all he remembers is ice.

He's going to be sick.

"You're scaring me," Kurisu's voice is shaking a little.

Her image wavers. _Not real, not real. None of this is real._

His stomach heaves and like magic someone shoves a plastic can between his feet. Gripping the edges, he gives himself over to the sickness crippling his soul, vomiting until he's empty. When it's over, he still can't look at Kurisu.

At some point she'd sat down beside him on the couch. The one hand became two and she continues rubbing his back in soothing, alternating motions.

"Done?" she ventures when the gagging has dissolved into shallow gasps for air.

"Sorry," he croaks, wishing she'd never seen him like this. No salvaging his badass reputation now.

She hands him a bottle of water. He shakes his head, running his hands through sweaty hair.

"What happened?"

"I –", he hesitates, finally braving her somber eyes. He sees concern, fear and determination. "I can't tell you. Not yet."

Her brows furrow. She's irritated. "Okabe, I can't help if you don't let me." She pulls away from him and clasps both hands in her lap. "Obviously something's very wrong. I need to know what's going on."

He tries out a smile, failing miserably.

"Assistants shouldn't question the whims of their superiors." It's weak and halfhearted. Kurisu sighs resignedly.

"I don't know what the hell to do with you," she leans over to pick up the trashcan. He gently wraps his hand around her wrist, urging her to stay put.

"You're helping," he says. "Just you being here…it's helping."

An involuntary blush creeps over Kurisu's cheeks. "You should drink the water," she stammers before standing to head for the kitchen.

A cheerful sing-song voice announces Mayuri's arrival as she pushes open the door, struggling with bags of take-out.

"Okarin," she whines when she sees him on the couch. "I thought you were a gentleman. Help me out?"

Okabe feels his throat closing. The room shimmers, wobbles. Rising on unsteady legs, he crosses the few feet to the young girl. Wraps her up in his arms in spite of her squeaking protests as she's forced to drop the bags.

"Okarin?" her voice is a whisper, scared. "What's the matter?" After a moment, small hands reach around his waist, fisting at his coat, hugging him tight.

For a moment he can't answer, overwhelmed by how warm she feels against him. He swallows and doesn't realize he's crying until it's too late.

"I'm gonna make it right," he brushes a stray hair from her face. "I promise."

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 **END**

 **Thanks for reading :) Love to hear from y'all. *wink wink***


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